| Once you free your sight
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| Once you be for life
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| We are…
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| When I dream, I dream in white, of
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| Bells and birdcage, boat dock sun and the
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| Cargo spice of what’s to come
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| Like the images come one after one
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| But this time, it was night
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| The moon it lilted brightways sharp and the
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| Words to sleeping drifters dance as
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| Though to fall from page alive…
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| When the
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| Light fell down was a wild burn
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| Like the night said, it could be learned
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| With the journey you took a chance
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| To forget when you start the dance…
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| Did the hairs on the neck of time
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| Stand straight with me speaking their name
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| And the pride that can make us blind
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| Does it simply fear being shamed
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| Oh the branch, is it known by seed
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| How it comes to be… and
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| Do the blooms know their righteous power
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| The beauty of being Seen
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| Oh the pride that can make us blind!
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| Does it simply fear being shamed
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| And the tide in it’s ever-pulling
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| Would naught but by breathing be tamed
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| Oh the thought is it known by speech
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| How it comes to be…
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| And do the colored blooms know their righteous power
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| The beauty of being Seen…
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| When I dream I dream in flight
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| The swells and stills of all that’s come and the
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| Setting forth our kindred sum
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| A point in a constellation
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| When the light fell down was a wild burn
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| Your mission forming with every turn
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| To assemble and piece it whole
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| To remember this dance we woke
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| The beauty of being Seen… |